


Harry Potter and the Odds and Ends of Life

by AngelQueen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, Character Death, Mind Control, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot Bunnies - Freeform, Triplets, Work Up For Adoption, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5113139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various Harry Potter plot bunnies that have decided to nibble on the author's brain, a different plot bunny for each chapter. All are up for adoption, so long as credit is given for the idea. </p><p>Being revised and re-posted from ff.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time Travel AU, HGSS, character death

**Premise** : _Hermione is thrown back in time in an accident during the final battle at Hogwarts. Hoping to change things, she establishes herself at Hogwarts and slowly begins to make changes in the lives of those attending the school. After becoming friends with Lily Evans, Hermione works with her to gently lead Severus away from the life of a Death Eater. However, along the way, she and Severus fall in love. Though hesitant, Hermione marries him after graduation, though only on the condition that he promise her to never join either side of the war. In 1979, Hermione becomes pregnant, and Severus soon becomes nervous and secretive. After months of trying to discover why, Gideon Prewett, a friend of Hermione’s, finally apprises her of the situation._

NOTES: I wrote this shortly after I first saw _Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith_ , as you’ll no doubt be able to tell.

* * *

Hermione stared at Gideon, her lips pressed together tightly. After a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t believe you,” she stated.

“Hermione,” he replied, taking her hand, “I wouldn’t say such a thing if I didn’t know it to be true. Severus has joined You-Know-Who.”

Again, she shook her head, snatching her hand away from him. “No, it’s not true. We are both neutral in this war,” Hermione maintained, turning to sit down on the sofa, her left hand resting carefully on her swollen abdomen. “Severus gave me his word, as I gave him mine.” _He promised_ , she thought.

_He promised me all of that was behind him._

Gideon, however, refused to let it go. He followed her to the sofa and sat down next to her. “Hermione, listen to me. He may not be going on missions for You-Know-Who, but he has been providing him with potions and information. He’s spying on Dumbledore at Hogwarts.”

“No.” Did her voice waver?

“Yes,” Gideon countered firmly. “He hasn’t taken the Dark Mark yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Hermione felt herself beginning to tremble. She didn’t like to admit it, even to herself, but Severus had been different lately, since she’d told him about the baby. Though he had crowed about it in his own, smirking way, he had seemed to grow secretive, vanishing into his lab at all hours of the night. It was the one place in the house she could not enter while she was pregnant, so she had no way of knowing what he was up to.

“No.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “He promised me…”

Gideon’s voice sounded so very far away now. “Hermione, listen to me. Go to Dumbledore. He’ll protect you and your child. No harm can befall you at Hogwarts.”

Hermione couldn’t suppress a snort. Gideon had no idea just how dangerous that school could be. She glared at him. “Protect me from what?” she demanded. “My own husband? Why would I need protection from him?” She forced herself to stand back up, to distance herself from Gideon and his words.

“Hermione –“

She cut him off. “No, Gideon, you are wrong, and before you ask me, I will _not_ tell you where he is. Please, go.”

Silence reigned and Hermione knew he did not move from the sofa. She could feel his familiar brown gaze on her back. Finally, she heard him stand. 

“Where did he get the Galleons to buy that necklace?” he asked. Her hand automatically flew up to the white cat pendant. She remembered the utterly satisfied look on his face in the mirror that night, when he had first put it around her neck. He’d said that the large commission he had taken that had paid him extremely well, providing him with the funds to buy something beautifully frivolous for her.

He had not lied, she saw, merely withheld the identity of who had provided that commission. Hermione’s hand left the pendant to cover her mouth, stifling a whimper.

“I’m so sorry.” Then Gideon was gone, leaving Hermione alone with her own terrifying thoughts.

* * *

It had taken Hermione the better part of an hour to calm herself down. She had retreated to the bedroom after Gideon had left the cottage, curling up on the bed and staring at the wall. She did not sleep, though. Instead, Hermione’s mind raced over the events of the past several months, thinking of Severus’ movements and behavior. Dread had swept through her. She did not want to believe that he would break so sacred a promise to her. So finally, she roused herself and left the cottage, taking the quick trip through the Floo to Severus’ laboratory.

“Hermione, what are you doing here?” Severus demanded, holding her close and keeping his body between her and the simmering cauldrons.

She didn’t mind his protectiveness. Instead, she squeezed his arms tightly, reassured by the contact. “I was worried,” she told him breathlessly. “Gideon stopped by today.” His eyes darkened at the mention of her friend’s name, but she kept going. “He… told me terrible things.”

“What?” There was so much emotion in that one word she couldn’t even begin to sort it out.

She stared at him. “That you’d joined Voldemort,” she replied. He flinched at the dark wizard’s name, and dread swept through her. “That you were spying on Dumbledore and providing him with potions.” She shook her head. “I told Gideon that it was impossible. I told him that you and I are neutral –“

Few people would have seen Severus’ expression flicker. Hermione wasn’t one of them. She saw the anger, the guilt. She froze.

_No… it’s not… he wouldn’t have…_

Slowly, she backed away from him. “You didn’t…” she breathed. “Gideon was wrong.” The plea in her voice was palpable.

Severus didn’t answer at first, his eyes glued to the floor and his fists clenched at his side. After several tension-filled moments, he finally met her gaze. “It was the only way, Hermione.”

“ _What?_ ”

“There is no neutrality where the Dark Lord is concerned,” he told her. “If I did not join him, he would have handed you over to his minions to play with before he killed you.” He sounded so matter-of-fact, like he was reciting a potions recipe instead of predicting her supposed future.

Hermione clenched her teeth, her hand resting on her pregnant belly. “My fate,” she growled, “is not his to decide.”

“He would have found a way to make it so,” Severus maintained. 

She shook her head. “I don’t believe this! You gave me your _word_! Does that mean nothing to you?” she demanded.

“It was for the best!”

Childish though it was, Hermione couldn’t stop herself from stomping her foot. “Bullocks! You should have told me he was threatening you. We could have gone abroad –“

“And when they found us again? What then?” Severus demanded. “Our fate would have been much, much worse. There is nothing to be gained from defying him except for an agonizing death, Hermione! I’ve saved you and our son! We need not ever fear again!”

She couldn’t breathe, just gaped at the fanatical gleam in his eyes. It was terrifying, seeing a look on his face that she had only ever seen on the ruined face of Bellatrix Lestrange in the Department of Mysteries, so long ago.

“I don’t believe what I’m hearing,” Hermione whispered, her voice trembling. “Gideon was right…”

His eyes narrowed and he growled, “I don’t want to hear about Gideon, Hermione. The man is worthless.”

She stiffened at the insult. “He has been our friend for _years_!” she shouted, her rage coming to her swiftly. 

Something in Severus’ demeanor changed, but Hermione didn’t study it as she normally would. She wanted nothing more than to slap him right now.

“Friend? Just a friend, Hermione?” he sneered. “Or do I need to be concerned about the paternity of the baby in your womb?”

Now she did slap him. Hard. “How dare you –“ She was cut off when he abruptly shoved her back against the wall. Before she could react, his wand appeared and the spell fell from his lips. “ _Petrificus Totalus._ ”

She couldn’t move, and the panic hit her immediately. Severus knew that casting such harsh and invasive magic on her was dangerous at this point in her pregnancy, but he didn’t seem to care. He leaned close to her face and hissed, “Hear me now, _wife_. Behave yourself or you’ll get us both killed. This is for your own good, so show a little gratitude, and I don’t want to hear any more about Gideon Prewett.”

Pain began to blossom in her stomach, but Hermione couldn’t cry out. Severus continued to lecture her, but she didn’t hear him. _Oh Merlin, the baby…_

“Let her go, Severus!”

_Gideon._

Severus didn’t reply, just stood there, wand in hand, glaring alternately at her and Gideon. 

“Let her go, now,” Gideon ordered, his tone brooking no argument. Hermione could see him out of the corner of her eye, striding closer.

Several pain-filled moments passed, the agony increasing every second. Hermione couldn’t even vocalize it. Then, with an unconscious snarl, Severus waved his wand in her direction. “ _Finite Incantatem_.”

It was as though she was a marionette whose strings had been abruptly cut. Hermione slumped to the floor, and it was as though something _ripped_ inside of her. The spell had obviously muted the pain somewhat, but now it hit her in full force. Hermione could feel her belly contracting, could feel a warmth running down her legs. Despite the pain, however, she could still hear the two men shouting at one another.

Severus. “You turned her against me!”

Gideon. “You did that all by yourself.”

A growl. “You may love her Prewett, but she is _my_ wife. She will never be yours.”

Under other circumstances, Hermione would have taken offense at being spoken of as though she was a bone to be fought over by two ravenous dogs. Now, though, she didn’t care. Her water had broken, and the pain that showed no sign of abating made her all the more terrified. _The baby…_

Neither man seemed to notice her predicament. As Hermione’s ability to stay conscious faded, she could hear her husband and friend firing off spells at one another.

_Severus… no… Gideon, stop…_

That was the last thing Hermione remembered for a long time.

* * *

It was the pain that brought her back to consciousness. Sobbing in distress, Hermione flailed her arms out, searching for something to grasp, anything to distract her from the pain.

“Mrs. Snape! Calmly, dear, you’re safe.” That voice. Hermione knew that voice.

“Ma’m P’mfr’y,” she slurred, struggling to open her eyes. “Wha…”

“You’re at Hogwarts, dear,” the mediwitch told her, leaning close. “Mr. Prewett brought you to us a few hours ago.”

Hermione sucked in a great gasp of air. “Sev’rus?”

Madam Pomfrey’s lips tightened, but she said only, “He is alive, so far as we know.” Hermione moaned, but the mediwitch grasped her hand to regain her attention. “Mrs. Snape, listen very carefully. The magical toxicity levels in your blood are extremely high. Mr. Prewett did not know how long you were held under _Petrificus Totalus_. Your baby is under considerable distress. I need your permission to perform an emergency C-section. Hermione, _do you understand me_?”

 _Severus, gone… baby… danger…_ Still struggling to breathe and think clearly, Hermione managed a small nod. Though Madam Pomfrey didn’t say it out loud, she knew very well what her request meant. C-sections didn’t happen often in the magical world, and only when there was only the faintest of hopes to keep the baby alive and no hope for the mother.

 _I’m dying._ The thought terrified her. Hermione was under no illusions of bravery, Gryffindor or not. So much depended on her – her husband, her child, the _timeline_! Still, in the end, there was nothing to do but weather the pain that engulfed her body.

The next several minutes were quite hectic. Hermione was aware of Madam Pomfrey rushing to and fro, preparing the instruments she’d need for the procedure. She was distracted, however, when another person appeared at her side.

“Albus,” Hermione breathed. 

The headmaster sat down next to her bed and took her trembling hand, looking older than she’d ever seen him. “Conserve your strength, my dear,” he told her. “Your child will need you.”

Her breath hitched and her eyesight began to blur. “Severus… where…”

Albus did not have a chance to reply, because that was when Madam Pomfrey reappeared. “Mrs. Snape,” she said, “I am ready to begin.” Hermione managed a small nod. 

What followed was so utterly painful that all she could comprehend was her own screaming and the clutching of Albus’ hand in her own. What rationality she had alternated between the baby squirming unhappily in her belly and the husband who should have been sitting in Albus’ place.

 _Severus_ …

The next minutes continued to be a haze of pain and confusion, until suddenly Hermione felt something _torn_ away from her body. Hermione cried out yet again, her back arching on the bed. What could possibly be worth this, she wondered. 

A shrill cry pierced the air.

 _That_ , she realized. _That’s worth it._

Madam Pomfrey appeared again, now carrying a tiny, slimy, squirming _thing_ in her arms. The mediwitch stepped closer and leaned down to Hermione’s level.

“’Tis a girl, Mrs. Snape,” she said quietly. 

Hermione blinked. She and Severus had not asked the healers about the baby’s gender, but he had been so certain… Her body began to convulse a little, and the others looked at her in alarm. They relaxed a little, however, when weak laughter bubbled out of her mouth.

“Severus was so sure,” Hermione whispered. “So sure it was a boy…” Gathering what little strength she had left, she reached out and brushed her fingers along the baby’s cheek. “Healthy?”

“Yes,” the mediwitch confirmed. “Quite healthy. Much more than I expected, given the circumstances.”

Hermione barely heard her. “He was so sure,” she repeated, continuing to stroke the baby’s cheek. “But you’re my baby girl, my… Amelia Anne.” It was then that her energy flagged, and her arm dropped back to the bed. “Take care of her…”

She forced her eyes away from the baby and back to Albus, whose face was greyer than it had been before. Hermione forced herself to squeeze his hand. “Albus.”

He leaned closer. “Yes?”

“Beware… Pettigrew,” she forced out. There was little time, she knew, and the time for secrets and caution. “Help… Severus… still good… in him… Lily… key… I know…”

That was all she could stay. There was no strength left in her, and Hermione could only hope that her words were enough. Though she had promised Severus to let things run their course, she could not regret speaking now. She wasn’t going to be here anymore to watch over events, so if she could save even one life, it was a chance worth taking.

Why was it so dark now? She could barely make out Albus’ features now. Where was Amelia? Who would look after her baby? Severus was in no position to do so, not when he was known as a Death Eater to the Order of the Phoenix, if not the Ministry as well.

So much left to do and Hermione could not stay to do it. Fate had won, had taken its revenge against her for trying to change its course. 

She could only pray she had done at least some good.

* * *

When Hermione’s hand went limp and her chest ceased to rise, Albus closed his eyes and bowed his head. She was gone. The time traveler who had so fascinated him was dead. 

Her words seared his mind. _Beware of Pettigrew. Help Severus. Lily is the key. My dear, you do not ask much, do you?_

Multiple gasps coming from behind him distracted Albus from his thoughts. Turning, he saw Gideon Prewett, still covered in soot and bearing his injuries from his altercation with Severus. With him was Minerva, whose face was utterly white as she stared at Hermione’s blood-covered body, as well as Lily, whose hand covered her mouth even as tears fell down her cheeks.

“She’s gone?” Gideon whispered. When Albus nodded tiredly, the grief on the younger man’s face morphed into rage. “I’ll kill that son of a bitch!” he snarled. He turned on his heel, his wand snapping into his hand, and he strode toward the door.

“Hold, Gideon!” Albus called firmly. There was much to be done, and he could not have Gideon rushing off to extract vengeance on Severus. Hermione’s final wishes notwithstanding, Severus could still be of use to the war effort. 

The younger man stopped and turned back, his eyes blazing with hatred. “ _He killed her_!” Gideon roared. “He knew using magic on her could harm her, but he didn’t care! He killed his wife and child!”

“You are only half-correct, Mr. Prewett.” Poppy, it seemed, had decided to step in. Albus watched her stride across the infirmary, carrying a bundled yellow blanket ever so carefully. She came to a stop next to Albus, and he gently took the swaddled baby into his arms.

“Mrs. Snape is dead, yes,” the mediwitch continued, her voice cool and professional. “Complications in childbirth. However, her daughter still lives.”

Gideon stilled at those words, but Minerva and Lily inched forward. Both of them seemed to now avoid looking at the body behind Albus, and kept their eyes on the baby. Lily reached out and gently pressed her finger into one of the baby’s tiny hands, which reflexively curled around it. “A girl?” she breathed.

“Yes,” Albus confirmed. “Amelia Anne, I believe Hermione called her.”

“She is beautiful,” Minerva whispered, and then looked up. “What is to become of her, Albus?”

“That, Minerva,” Albus answered tiredly, “is but one thing we have to determine tonight.” He turned to the mediwitch. “Poppy, if you could make the arrangements and inform St. Mungo’s?”

Poppy nodded. “Where shall I direct them to take her?” she asked.

“Nowhere,” he said. “She will be buried here at Hogwarts.”

All three women’s eyes widened. “Albus, are you sure that’s wise?” Minerva asked. “No one has been interred there in over three hundred years! It will undoubtedly be much talked of, even if it is for such a rising star in the academic world.”

“The burial will be private,” Albus declared. “Friends and colleagues only. I will deal with the press if they become a nuisance.” The baby began to fuss and he carefully shifted her I his arms, causing her to go quiet again. He almost wondered if little Amelia Snape knew they were speaking of putting to rest the mother she had lost within minutes of her arrival into the world. 

“Come,” he said to them, “we will go to my office. There is much we must discuss.”

* * *

September 1, 1991

* * *

The Sorting of 1991 was well underway and Albus could not help but feel nervous. He had been waiting for this day for years, and it had finally come. The pack new students stood huddled together at the front of the Great Hall, just before the staff table, as Minerva summoned them forward one-by-one.

Several of the children in the group stood out. Albus could make out Ronald Weasley, Gideon Prewett’s youngest nephew, by the mop of messy red hair. There to the boy’s left was Harry Potter, the one on whom all hopes would eventually life. Albus was relieved to see the curiosity and kindness in the boy’s eyes. Lily had raised him well, even without James by her side. Then there was the little girl near the front of the pack, the most familiar of them all, who was about to be called for her Sorting.

“Flamel, Amelia!”

Albus’ goddaughter beamed happily as she skipped to the stool and sat down. The Sorting Hat covered her honey-colored curls, leaving everyone else to wait for its decision. Albus took the opportunity to glance down the table to his right. 

Severus sat next to Quirinius, his customary scowl firmly in place as he gazed down at the new students. His dark eyes did not appear to linger on any one student, not even young Harry, which gave Albus hope. Perhaps Severus had grown enough not to take his old grudge against Sirius Black, the boy’s godfather, and James Potter out on the child. Perhaps more importantly, he did not appear to give Amelia any special attention. Expected, considering that as far as Severus was concerned, she was only the ward of Nicholas and Pernelle Flamel. A child of a well-known house, certainly, but not someone who needed to be gawked at.

Albus had never told Severus that while Hermione had died, their child had lived. In the hours after Hermione’s death, he, along with Gideon, Minerva, and Lily, had conspired and planned for Amelia’s future. Gideon had been adamant that the girl be kept away from her “murdering father,” and even offered to take her in himself. Lily’s cooler head had prevailed on him, though, pointing out that it would look rather suspicious if he, a bachelor who wasn’t even dating anyone, was to suddenly appear with a baby. Minerva had agreed, stating that if anyone within the Order who did not have a family or was not pregnant took in the child, it would eventually get back to the wrong kinds of people.

That fact had left them with the need to find a family who was not involved in the war, and yet would not be attacked by Voldemort or his followers. There were few families who could fit that description. Almost none of them were in Britain, and few were in France or the Americas. Still, even though Albus trusted those few foreign families, he was unsure if they would have the strength to repel an all-out attack seeking to take little Amelia from them. There was, however, one family could. Rather, a couple who could protected. Thus, Albus had sent a message with Fawkes to Nicholas and Pernelle, requesting that they shelter the infant. Fortunately, they had agreed and Amelia swiftly left Britain, leaving everyone else to concentrate their energies on the war effort. 

She left just in time. Some days after Hermione’s funeral, Severus appeared at Hogwarts, a broken and now Marked man By then, Lily had also been delivered of a healthy son, called Harry, and Severus had babbled about how Voldemort believed that Lily’s son was the child spoken of in the prophecy, even to the exclusion of Neville Longbottom, the other candidate.

_“My wife and son are dead,” Severus said woodenly. “It was my own stupidity and inability to control my temper that caused it. Now Lily is marked for death as well, because she bore Potter a boy who lived.”_

_Albus stared at him for several long moments before speaking. “What would you have me say or do? I cannot quell your conscience with false platitudes, Severus. Hermione died in my arms.”_

_The boy flinched at the mention of her name. “Hermione… is gone, but Lily was her closest friend. Protect her, protect her son, protect her husband if you must.” Severus looked across the desk at him, slumped in defeat. “Enough children have died on my account.”_

Albus did not correct Severus’ assumption over the death of his child. He recalled Hermione muttering something about Severus’ assumption that their child was a boy, and had not even considered a girl. The young man was broken and regretful, yes, but he did not believe then that Severus was capable of bearing the responsibility that came with caring for a baby. That, and Albus had no desire to see Hermione’s child laid at the feet of Voldemort for some obscene, dark blessing. Let Amelia be raised among those who would love and treasure her. It was not a decision he had been wholly comfortable with, denying a father the right to raise his own child, but Albus had made it nonetheless, for the girl’s own well-being.

The war continued, and people kept dying, including Gideon and his brother, Fabian. Gideon had left all of his possessions to Amelia, but it was being held in trust until she was of age. The war ended only when the Potters were attacked before they could go into hiding. James had been killed when he and Lily utilized the protection spells Hermione and Lily had developed together. James’ death had been a catalyst that had left Lily and Harry to survive the attack, but also left a mark on the boy, just as the prophecy had foretold. 

They were committed to the course ahead.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Applause broke out, jarring Albus from his thoughts. He turned his eyes back to Amelia to see her hop off the stool, hand the Hat back to Minerva, and flash a bright smile in his direction before she joined her new housemates. Albus allowed himself a small chuckle over his goddaughter’s high spirits.

The next student – a Justin Finch-Fletchley – was Sorted to Hufflepuff with relative ease, and then came the fourth and last remarkable student in the pack. 

“Granger, Hermione.”

Albus gave Minerva credit for saying the girl’s name without her voice cracking. He glanced again at Severus, and saw a small flicker on the man’s face, but little else. It was an expression that Albus had seen many times in the past, whenever someone mentioned his dead wife in front of him. Albus knew that Hermione had never told Severus her real family name, but Severus was no one’s fool. It was one thing to hide Amelia, Severus had never seen the girl nor had any reason to mark her existence. Hermione, on the other hand, was another story entirely. The girl in front of them was young, but she would grow up right in front of Severus. He was bound to see the resemblance. 

Given the speculating gleam in the Potions Master’s eyes, Albus was fairly certain that the younger man would be visiting his office before the night was out, demanding answers.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Albus blinked, a little surprised, and tried not to laugh at the irony that was playing out before them. Amelia Anne Snape Flamel, the daughter of Severus and Hermione Snape, had been Sorted into the same house as her biological mother, who was also to reside there at the same time. 

The rest of the Sorting passed quickly, Gryffindor gaining many other students such as Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley. Minerva would certainly have her hands full with this set of year-mates.

After dismissing the children at the end of the Welcoming Feast, Albus turned to find Severus standing next to him, giving him a hard stare.

“Yes, Severus?” he asked as innocently as he could. 

The younger man’s glare intensified. “I would speak with you, Headmaster.”

“Of course,” Albus agreed. “Would you like Minerva to join us?” His deputy still sat next to him, watching them both carefully. 

“If she so wishes.”

The journey to his office was a silent one, though they could hear the distant echoes of laughing students making their way to their common rooms. The gargoyle moved after Albus muttered the current password – Piping Peppermints – and the three rode the revolving staircase up to his office.

Severus barely waited until they were all seated before demanding, “Is it her? How can it be her?”

Albus stared at Severus and knew that now was not the time to dance around the subject. He sighed. “Yes, the girl is Hermione Granger. As for whether or not she is your wife, it is a matter of interpretation.” Severus cocked his head questioningly, and Albus continued. “Genetically, your wife and Miss Granger are one in the same person. Technically, however, she is not. Hermione Snape was buried in the old cemetery over a decade ago.”

Severus flinched, and Minerva spoke up. “But did you not once speculate that the timeline would prevent two of them from existing at the same time?”

“I thought as much might happen,” he admitted, “but I was proven wrong when her name appeared on the list when she was born. I investigated then, and found that Hermione Granter was a healthy child, and would undoubtedly join us at the appropriate time. It is possible that by the time Miss Granger was born, Mrs. Snape had evolved to the point where the differences in their magical signatures were enough to permit them both to exist within the timeline.”

“So, she is not my wife,” Severus stated, standing up. “Good,” he declared. “I will not ruin her life again.”

Minerva stayed behind when Severus departed for the dungeons soon after. She slumped a little in her chair. “Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Amelia Flamel,” she muttered. “Please, Hat, explain why you put _all three of them_ in my house?”

The Sorting Hat had already returned to its customary shelf in Albus’ office, and seemed to eye them both in exasperation. “Because that’s where they belong, of course,” he snapped irritably. “Though, I will admit that Misses Granger and Snape would both have done well in Ravenclaw, and Mr. Potter in Slytherin.”

Albus stiffened slightly. “Please remember, Hat, not to use Amelia’s birth name so cavalierly. It would not do to have it overheard by the wrong people.”

“You mean the girl’s father? Yes, I suppose that’s true, from your point of view. But no matter. The three children are where they wish to be, and that is the end of it.”


	2. Harry Potter, brother of the BWL, gen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Premise:** The beginning of an attempt to write a ‘Harry’s brother is thought to be the BWL’ fic. It didn’t get very far.

October 31st, 1981 in Godric’s Hollow, Wales was a tense night. The residents of the small village looked nervously out their windows, taking note of the ominous clouds rolling across the sky. They were not overly superstitious people, but many of them could not help but feel that something… dangerous lingered nearby on this night when the realms of the living and dead came into such close contact. So they suppressed a shiver and closed their curtains, glad that trick-or-treating was over and done with and their children were safely tucked into their beds for the night.

Then, around midnight, an enormous **BOOM** sent everyone jumping. Men rushed out of their houses barefoot, their wives following just a few steps behind as they threw on slippers and robes. Children sat up in bed, the younger ones crying for their parents and the older ones scrambling for their younger siblings, wanting to cry for their parents but struggling to maintain their dignity in the face of their terror. People looked about wildly and soon spotted the smoke in the distance. It took a few moments, but eventually they recalled what lay in that area – the Potter place.

Oh yes, how could they have forgotten? The house was a tiny old cottage, recently renovated for the use of young James Potter, his pretty and intelligent wife, Lily, and those two adorable little boys of theirs, Harry and Harlan. Alarm began to spread through everyone. Some of the men began shouting, running toward the smoke while others ordered their wives inside, telling them to call the fire brigade.

When the men of Godric’s Hollow arrived at the Potter home, they were horrified. The front door was blackened and twisted, swung inward in such a manner that it probably would never be able to move back into place again. Many of the window panes were cracked and shattered, and smoke billowed out of them.

The fire lorry rang in the distance, signaling that its arrival was imminent. Still, some of the men approached the house anyway, keeping their heads low and away from the smoke. They shouted for Mr. and Mrs. Potter, sending up silent prayers that the young couple and their children were still alive.

Those prayers were thankfully answered when the men heard the sound of fast-paced footsteps. Within moments, James Potter appeared, his right arm dangling uselessly at his side and his left arm carefully holding one of his sons close to his body. Lily Potter followed just behind him, her face covered in soot and her eyes red with tears as she carried the other boy.

The lorry arrived then and the fire fighters immediately set to work. Hooking up their hoses, they began to spray water through the windows and over the house, dousing the fire that was beginning to peak out at various spots. Meanwhile, the chief met the Potters and began to see to their comfort, supported by the locals.

It was then, the men of Godric’s Hollow recalled, that things became fuzzy. They remembered the fire being put out and the statements being given by the Potters, that of an electrical fire. They remembered that the Potters and the fire lorry left the area quickly, and that the Potters chose to take up residence in another house belonging to a friend some distance away. There had been nothing suspicious about the incident to suggest foul play, but it had all been wrapped up rather quickly. It was discussed among the residents of Godric’s Hollow for a time and remembered long after, causing people to shudder just a little if they recalled the ill-boding feelings they’d had earlier that evening.

* * *

The Hogs’ Head appeared deserted from the outside. The windows were covered, no light peeped out of any of them, and the battered ‘Closed’ sign hung on the door. Inside, however, the bar room was filled to the brim with people. 

The Order of the Phoenix had assembled. Aberforth Dumbledore stood behind his bar, cleaning glasses with a dirty towel methodically, but his blue eyes swept over the room repeatedly, piercing anyone who looked at him. Alastor Moody sat in a corner, watching people in a similar, scowling manner, checking the privacy and security wards around the bar every few minutes. Frank and Alice Longbottom sat together at a table, looking thoroughly shaken. Their young son, Neville, was cuddled in his mother’s lap. Many of the other members milled about in confusion.

In the center of the chaos, Albus Dumbledore sat with James, Lily, and the Potter twins, listening patiently as the two explained what had occurred at their home in Godric’s Hollow. They explained that Sirius Black, James’ best friend, had not been their Secret Keeper, as they had led everyone to believe. Instead it had been Peter Pettigrew, another childhood friend of James’, who was thought to be the perfect decoy. That thought had nearly brought about their deaths, as Peter had turned out to be the long-sought spy within the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and had brought the Dark Lord Voldemort right to their home in Godric’s Hollow.

James could only tell Albus that he had dueled Voldemort for a few minutes before being tossed aside and left unconscious on the sitting room floor with his arm broken. Lily, still trembling, told the older wizard of how she had rushed to the nursery where her sons lay sleeping, desperate to get them to safety. She had then found herself trapped there as Voldemort appeared before she could take the twins and escape. He had banished her out of his path when she had refused to stop shielding her sons, causing her to hit her head against the wall. When she had regained consciousness, however, it had not been to deathly silence, but to the sound of two screaming babies and the smell of smoke. As she had stumbled to her feet, she had seen the body of Voldemort lying before the large crib containing Harry and Harlan. Lily had shouted for her husband and reached for the twins. She and James had managed to get out as the house had burned around them.

In the silence that reigned after the story finished, Albus leaned back and stroked his beard thoughtfully. Voldemort appeared to be gone, the prophecy fulfilled. Why, then, did he feel so disturbed, like the sword of death still hung over them?

He turned his attention the two Potter boys. Harlan sat in his father’s lap, fast asleep, while Harry rested in his mother’s arms, his eyes blinking in a vain effort to stay awake. Harry, the older of the two, sported a jagged scar on his forehead that strangely resemble a bolt of lightning. The younger Harlan also ported a scar, a deceptively simple-looking diagonal cut. One of these boys, Albus knew had stopped Tom Riddle in his tracks when all others before him had failed.

Harry’s scar, he thought, seemed too messy in comparison to Harlan’s, he noted. Harlan’s scar seemed as though it had been cut with care, perhaps by Tom’s wand? Had Tom marked young Harlan with his wand of yew and phoenix feather before attempting to kill him? It fit the circumstances, not to mention the prophecy. 

Albus Dumbledore was a humble man, but he also knew he had a great deal of intelligence and analytical thinking. When he came to a conclusion, it was usually the right one. Unfortunately, when he was wrong, he tended to be wrong on a very large scale. This time, though, he did not consider that he might be wrong. The war was over for the moment, and everyone could get on with their lives.

Smiling in satisfaction, he reached out and gently swept his fingers over the head of the sleeping Harlan. “My friends,” he stated, “I give you Harlan Charles Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.”

* * *

Six-year-old Harry Potter bounced excitedly as he waited with his brother, Harlan, and best friend, Neville, for his parents to appear. Their class had been assigned to paint a picture of their favorite place during Art Time. Neville had drawn a place full of flowers, his mum’s garden, and Harlan had drawn the field behind their home (leaving out the Quidditch hoops since it was a Muggle class). Harry, however, had painted the library of Potter Manor, where his father worked and managed the family businesses and accounts. His teacher, Miss Rutledge, had praised his work, saying that he was very talented in painting the books and the desk and chairs. He couldn’t wait to show it to his dad, hoping it would be put on the bulletin board in the library.

Eventually, his dad pulled up in front of the school in the family car. Harry and Neville piled into the back seat while Harlan sat up front with Dad. Harry opened his mouth to tell his dad about his picture, but was beaten to speaking by his brother.

“Dad,” Harlan exclaimed loudly, “can I play with my broom when we get home?”

James Potter replied, “Well, I don’t know. Did Miss Rutledge give you any homework?”

Harlan wrinkled his nose. “Just some alphabet stuff,” he admitted. “And some number things too.”

“Well, then, you know the rules. Homework before playing. Mum’s orders.”

Harlan pouted but didn’t argue. Seeing that he would not have a chance to tell his father about his painting just then, Harry turned to Neville. The three of them attended the same primary school and every day, one of Harry’s parents would pick them up, allowing Neville to come to their house for a few hours before going home via the Floo to his dad and grandmother. Neville lived with them at one of the family’s homes. Harry wasn’t sure what had happened to Neville’s mum, since neither Neville nor anyone else would talk about her, and he had long since stopped asking.

“Nev,” Harry said, “I gotta show you this book I found. It’s got all these magical plants in it and –“

“Harry,” James cut in sternly, “you haven’t been mentioning magical things at school, have you?”

Harry shook his head. “No, Dad.”

“Good, because what’s the rule?”

“The magical world is a secret,” all three boys recited. They’d been over this so many times.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Premise:** _An AU where Harry vanished from Godric’s Hollow before Hagrid and Sirius arrived there. Fourteen years later, when Voldemort has returned after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Albus Dumbledore seeks the aid of an enriched, secluded society within Britain to join with the Order of the Phoenix in taking a stand against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. However, the leader of this community is not someone Dumbledore expected._

The long, winding tunnel in front of him was dimly lit, which would leave most people hesitant in their footing. However, Albus Dumbledore felt reasonably certain that the path in front of him was stable and walked with the same surety and confidence that the cloaked witch in front of him did. He eyed the woman’s back carefully. He wasn’t even aware of her name, to be honest. He did not recognize her voice or mannerisms from any student of Hogwarts that he could recall, and she did not seem inclined to make small talk that could give away clues to her identity or their current location.

Albus sighed inwardly. It had been a long, hard road to get to this tunnel. Ever since Tom Riddle’s first attempt to return to a physical body by use of the Philosopher’s Stone some years before, he had begun the search for allies, knowing there would come a day when they would be needed. It had been then that some of his more sordid contacts had brought to his attention the existence of a place called Sanctuary.

According to Albus’ sources, no one knew of Sanctuary’s location except for those who lived there, and few people left the place aside from those who sought to bring new people into the fold. The weak, the unprotected, the ‘lost’, one Mundungus Fletcher had told him. That was why there were so few werewolves left in Britain, Albus believed. The only werewolves left at large in Magical Britain were Fenrir Greyback and his closes associates. The rest, including Remus Lupin, had all slowly vanished and although the Ministry believed they had all left the country, Albus had heard enough through various informants to believe that most of the werewolf population had vanished into Sanctuary. There were even other rumors of similar disaffected members of Wizarding society vanishing into the hiding place as well.

It took power and brilliance to pull off something this enormous, that much Albus knew. As he had become more and more convinced of Sanctuary’s existence, he had begun to seek out people who could possibly put him into contact with the group’s leaders. It had proven difficult. The only way to communicate with Sanctuary’s leaders was to initiate contact with their Seekers, as Albus called those who brought new members into their group, and they were disinclined to acquiesce to any request to speak with anyone other than their targets. Eventually, after nearly six months of messages, interceptions, and outright begging, Albus convinced one of the Seekers to present his request for an audience to her leaders.

The agreement to a meeting had been sent to him over a week ago, brought by a phoenix, of all things. It had been in and out of Albus’ office so quickly that not even Fawkes had been able to get a good look at it. Nonetheless, the message gave him a time, date, and location to meet one of Sanctuary’s people. When he had arrived, though, he had been portkeyed to several enclosed locations until finally he and his companion came to the tunnel. She had beckoned him to follow her and begun walking.

They finally came to a door and stopped. Albus watched his companion take out her wand and point it at the door. She muttered an incantation he was not familiar with and a shower of blue sparks shot out of her wand and hit the door, which promptly popped open. He followed her in and found himself in another hallway, this one brightly lit and lined with a series of other doors. She led him for several more meters before stopping at one door and knocking softly.

“Come in,” a male voice called from inside.

She opened the door, but did not enter herself. Instead, she merely motioned wordlessly for Albus to enter. He did so, saying, “Thank you, miss.” He believed he saw her nod, but there was no verbal rely. 

Once inside the room, Albus quickly took in his new surroundings. It was an office, tastefully decorated with a few Muggle landscape paintings. A desk sat a few feet away, with several tables behind it and a chair in between. The back of the chair, however, was all that Albus could see, though he could see a head of dark hair over the top of it.

“I will be right with you.”

“Of course,” Albus replied, taking a seat in an empty chair. “Thank you for agreeing to this meeting.”

There were several moments of silence punctuated only by the scratching of a quill. Then, the quill was put back in its proper place and the chair turned. Taking in its occupant, Albus could not restrain a sharp intake of breath.

The person sitting in the chair could not have been any more than fifteen years old, but that was not all that shocked him. The boy had messy black hair, an oval-shaped face, and distinctive green eyes. What was the most astounding, though, was the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

After over a decade of searching, Albus had found the long-missing Harry James Potter.

* * *

Fourteen years ago  
Privet Drive, Surrey

* * *

Albus stood in front of Number Four, Privet Drive with Minerva McGonagall, wearily awaiting Hagrid’s arrival. So much had happened in the last few days, with Tom’s defeat at the Potter home at Godric’s Hollow, the deaths of James and Lily, and the hysterical jubilation of Magical Britain’s citizens. While everyone else had been celebrating, though, Albus had been making preparations. Harry Potter might be the Boy-Who-Lived, the Savior, to those of the Light, but he was also a target for any vengeful Death Eater looking to retaliate for Tom’s death. The fact that people like Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband and brother-in-law were still at large did not escape him. 

“Are you certain it is wise to entrust Hagrid with something of this importance?” Minerva was asking him uncertainly. 

“Ah, Minerva, I would trust Hagrid with my life,” Albus assured her. He glanced again at the Muggle home. He readily admitted that he knew little of Petunia Dursley and her family other than what little Lily had said in passing over the years. None of it had been exactly a glowing report of a loving sister. Still, he could not imagine that Petunia would turn out her sister’s orphaned son. Not the young girl who had pleaded so earnestly to come to Hogwarts so that she might still be able to watch over her beloved little sibling. She would protect him.

A strange sound interrupted any further thoughts and Albus looked up. A bright light was descending toward the road and even in the darkness, he recognized Hagrid’s large, bulky frame.

Albus stepped forward, saying, “Ah, Hagrid –“

“Beggin’ yer’ pardon, Professor Dumbledore,” Hagrid cut him off, “but we hav’ a problem. Harry’s gone!”

Alarm shot through him. “What?”

“He’s gone! He wan’t in th’ house. Young Sirius Black here di’n’t know where he was neither, so he off’red me a ride here.”

It was then that he saw the figure riding in the sidecar – a subdued, quiet Sirius Black. Albus carefully withdrew his wand. “Sirius?” he prodded.

The young man looked up at him. “I didn’t kill them, Professor,” he said, his voice dull and dead. “As good as, but I didn’t mean to.” He slumped in the sidecar. “And now Harry’s gone too.”

Albus stared at him. “I do not understand, Sirius. Explain.”

Sirius closed his eyes and Albus could see the grief and exhaustion on his face. It made him appear years older than his actual age. “I wasn’t their Secret Keeper,” he finally told him. “I was the decoy. We hid the real one.”

Albus nodded, but kept silent, waiting.

“We made Peter the Secret Keeper,” Sirius continued, running a hand through his messy hair. “We figured no one would think of him. It was the perfect set up. Hide him away and let the Death Eaters come after me.” He let out a bitter, barking laugh. “Turns out they didn’t have to. Peter led the bastards and their master straight to them.” Albus saw him clench his fists. “I am going to kill that rat,” Sirius vowed, his voice a vicious hiss.

Albus didn’t doubt him. He sighed and then said, “Come, my friends. We must begin the search immediately. I only hope it was not Death Eaters that found young Harry before Hagrid could retrieve him.”

* * *

Albus stared at the boy in front of him. It was easy to recognize him as Harry James Potter, and not just because of the scar on his forehead. Aside from his eyes and nose, he was nearly the image of James at the same age. However, there were also marked differences. There was none of the cheerful, good-natured mischief that had been so much of James’ personality. Instead, there was a close, wary expression on Harry’s face as he leaned back and pressed his fingers together.

“Harry,” Albus finally managed to speak, “I must say, I did not expect to find you here, of all places, but it is wonderful to know you are alive.”

Harry nodded solemnly. “Thank you. Now, to business. What do you have to ask of the people of Sanctuary?”

Albus blinked, but then followed Harry’s pointed change of subject. “I do not know if you are aware that Lord Voldemort has returned to human form –“

“We are very much aware that Tom Riddle has refused to stay a malevolent spirit like a good boy, yes,” Harry interrupted. “Though we are a closed community, we still have sources on the outside.”

Albus nodded. “Although the British Ministry remains unconvinced of his return, there are still those who have begun mobilizing for the war that is now upon us. We were hoping to ask for the support of the leaders of Sanctuary. If you could allow me to meet with them –“

“You are meeting with them, Headmaster,” Harry cut him off. “Or rather, me. I am the appointed representative and leader of those who choose to dwell within Sanctuary.”

He stared at Harry, shocked beyond words. These people had put a _fifteen-year-old boy_ in charge of their home? What on Earth was going on here?

“He’s telling you the truth, Albus.”

He stiffened and immediately turned around, surprised that he had not heard anyone else enter the room. When he saw who stood there, Albus found himself shocked yet again. Sirius Black stood in the doorway, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

Sirius had not reacted well to losing James and Lily, and Harry’s mysterious disappearance from the scene of the crime had not helped. Once he was properly cleared by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of all suspicion regarding the fall of the Potter family, he withdrew from public life. His inheritance from his uncle left him well-off enough that working for a living was an option, not a necessity. When his mother died nearly two years later, Sirius reluctantly took the title of Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Once he realized that his resources had significantly increased, however, Sirius took to the role a bit more, especially when he ordered the utter destruction of the chief London residence of the House of Black, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. The Head of the Blacks, Arcturus, had been a recluse for years and had not rousted himself to stop his heir. Albus had known Arcturus for a long time, and had been surprised at the man’s lack of action. Arcturus had always been a conservative man who held tightly to family tradition and dignity, but he had stood by and allowed the house that had sheltered the Blacks since before the reign of the Stuarts to be destroyed by his vengeful grandson.

Albus noted the changes in Sirius and had hoped that the young man’s bout of destruction would allow him to heal from the grievous losses he had suffered. However, shortly after the demolishment of Grimmauld Place, Sirius vanished. His accounts in Gringotts remained active, indicating that he was still alive, but no one saw or heard from him. Remus Lupin disappeared shortly thereafter. When Arcturus died in 1991, Sirius did come out of his hiding place to take up the Headship of the Blacks as well as the family seat in the Wizengamot, but disappeared again almost immediately after. He appointed a proxy for the Black seat, one Eleanor Hitchens, but the young woman proved immovable to Albus’ subtle requests for information about Sirius’ whereabouts. In addition, it wasn’t until after Sirius vanished again that Albus learned that Andromeda Black Tonks and her family had been reinstated to the Black family, and that Bellatrix Black Lestrange had been removed from the family ranks. Narcissa Black Malfoy, surprisingly, had been left alone.

Now here Sirius stood, looking hale, healthy, and happy. In the same room as his godson, confirming that said godson was indeed the leader of hundreds of people from various walks of life.

“Sirius,” Albus finally forced out, “what is going on here?’

The younger man grinned at him. “I think we ought to explain, Harry. Any more surprises right now and we might break him. Probably wouldn’t be good for the people Outside.”

Albus looked back at Harry in time to see him nod. “Fine.” He waited as Sirius conjured a chair and settled into it, and then began to speak.

“The Order of the Phoenix and the Aurors were not the only groups fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The Department of Mysteries also had people working against them, people who were able to follow Voldemort and Pettigrew to Godric’s Hollow and send for reinforcements. They witnessed what happened but were unable to interfere in time to save my parents. When Voldemort… vanished, there was a fire in the house. At the time, they did not know if there were any survivors, but they entered anyway. The fire was extinguished, and they soon found me in my cradle.”

Harry paused to take a drink of water. “Unspeakables,” Albus murmured, thinking back. There had been rumors of other people’s involvement in combating Tom, but nothing he could really substantiate. Now he understood why. Although the Department of Mysteries’ research division was under the Ministry’s purview, the lesser-known and discussed branch of the department was far more independent. It was not a stretch of imagination to believe that they were involved in countering Tom’s unholy crusade.

Albus supposed they should consider themselves lucky that Augustus Rockwood had only been a junior member of the research division in that department.

“May I ask who they were, the people that found you?”

Harry nodded. “Patrick O’Neill, Thomas McKinnon, and Cassandra Malfoy.”

Albus considered the names. He recognized them as former students. Few Irish came to Hogwarts, preferring their own school, a smaller but excellent establishment, but Patrick O’Neill had been one of the exceptions. Thomas McKinnon was another familiar name. The twin brother of Marlene McKinnon, he had not joined the Order during the war, but Marlene had not been concerned. She’d stated that her brother would not sit idly by in dark times, but would find his own way.

Cassandra Malfoy, however, turned out to be the biggest shock of all. Few people in their society recalled Lucius Malfoy’s younger sister. The girl had been sorted into Ravenclaw, clearly having no stomach for the whims and games of Slytherin. She had graduated with full honors, ranked first among her peers, but not as Head Girl, as she had turned the position down. After graduation, though, she had suffered some troubles. Albus recalled hearing about Abraxas Malfoy signing a contract to marry Cassandra off to Rabastan Lestrange. She disappeared shortly after, and Rabastan remained unwed. Now the mystery was solved. She had joined with the Unspeakables, who had protected her from an unwanted marriage. Nothing more was ever asked about the girl once she disappeared until Abraxas died some years later. Though most of the family fortune passed to Lucius, Abraxas had, surprisingly enough, not cut Cassandra out of his will. A considerable amount of gold had been left in her care to use as she saw fit.


	4. The Potter Triplets, gen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another 'wrong Boy-Who-Lived' attempt, this time featuring triplets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few scenes, bits and pieces. Again, each chapter is a separate and standalone 'verse, with no bearing on the other chapters.

**Part One: Far From Perfect**

In the eyes of one Harry James Potter, life was far from perfect. Oh, he was perfectly content in his home, Henfield House, with his parents, Lily and James Potter, and his triplet siblings, Hayward and Isabelle Potter. The family spent most of their time in Henfield House, though they sometimes visited the small villa the Potter family owned in Italy. Love was never in shortage between them. 

But outside the rosy little bubble of their family lay a source of extreme discomfort. In 1981, on Halloween, the new cottage built just after the marriage of Harry’s parents was attacked by the Dark Lord that had been terrorizing Magical Britain for over ten years, Voldemort. 

None of the family liked to talk about what happened that night, though it was no secret to any of them, be they adult or child. No one talked about how their location had been betrayed to Voldemort by Peter Pettigrew, one of James Potter’s closest friends. No one talked about how James had been incapacitated when Voldemort blew away a chunk of the fireplace, hitting him in the head. No one spoke of Lily’s desperate attempts to shield her three children, tinier than most babies their age, with her body from a monster bent on murder. No one talked about how she too had been shoved from Voldemort’s path to the Potter triplets. 

No one mentioned the Killing Curse he threw at the children, only to have it rebound and destroy him. No one talked about the rejoicing of a battered and heart-sore Magical Britain, who toasted Hayward John Potter as the Boy-Who-Lived, a child who had delivered them all from evil with just a jagged S-shaped scar on his forward to show for his trouble. No one talked about the lightning-shaped scar on Harry’s forehead, or how Isabelle alone remained unscathed. 

None of it was discussed among the Potters, but that didn’t mean that other people followed their example. Hardly a month could pass by without the _Daily Prophet_ writing up some expose on the Boy-Who-Lived and his “heroic victory over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” Then there was the Ministry who complained frequently that Hayward wasn’t put on public display enough because his parents sought to shield him whenever possible from the glory mongers.

And there were always the presents that came on their birthday. Presents from friends, of course, but also from people they didn’t even know. All of them were addressed to Hayward, who never ceased to be uncomfortable with all of the attention he garnered for something he didn’t even remember. Especially since these strangers seemed to not even realize that Hayward had an older brother and younger sister who had also been in the nursery that night.

So life wasn’t perfect for Harry James Potter and his family, but they dealt with it as best they could. Life could be far worse, after all.

On the morning of July 24th, 1991, Harry didn’t want to get up. He never did. He was no morning person. Still, he didn’t have much choice when he heard his doorknob turn and two sets of feet pad against the thick, blue carpet.

“Harry,” a boyish voice whispered, “you awake?”

Harry didn’t answer, hoping the voice would go away. He wanted to sleep.

“Come on, Harry,” a different, feminine voice broke in, just inches away from his ear. “Wake up.”

Harry groaned and twisted away, turning until his back was facing them. He heard retreating footsteps once his bed stopped creaking and he sighed in relief. Back to sleep…

… only to be splashed by ice-cold water. With a frantic yell, Harry leapt out of bed, only to fall flat on his face with his legs still twisted up in his blankets. He looked up to see his giggling brother and sister, the latter of which held an empty glass in her hand. 

“’Ward, Itsy!” he shouted, struggling to free himself.

Apparently his brother and sister knew when to retreat, because they both quickly fled the room, still laughing. By the time Harry was able to stand, Hayward and Isabelle were long gone. Sighing he looked at the clock next to his bed. Eight-forty-two. He might as well get up. If his nose was anything to go by, Misty, one of the family’s three house-elves, was already putting breakfast on the table. 

Grudgingly and already planning for a way to get back at his siblings, Harry made his bed, though he did remove the wet pillowcase so it could dry. He then removed a pair of trousers and a shirt from his closet and threw them on the bed. Once dressed, he left his room and hurried downstairs.

Upon entering the breakfast room, Harry saw he was the last to arrive, but that was hardly unusual. His father was seated in his normal spot, eating a piece of sausage while also reading one of the many Muggle newspapers that he subscribed to. Isabelle and Hayward were also there, both eating their scrambled eggs while glancing at him innocently. Harry glared at them, but quickly sat down next to his mother, who smiled at him. 

“How did they do it this time, Harry?” she asked him knowingly.

Harry took his plate and gathered a stack of pancakes. “A glass of water,” he told her as he added butter and syrup. 

Lily shook her head and chuckled, but still looked over at her other two children. “That wasn’t very nice,” she said, her tone mildly stern.

Hayward just grinned. “Harry wouldn’t wake up and it was time for breakfast. We did try being nice, Mum. Honest.”

Harry rolled his eyes and focused on his food. The meal passed in companionable silence, broken only by the chink of silverware. Just as they were finishing and about to carry the dishes into the kitchen (the most that Misty would tolerate them doing without breaking into tears), a beautiful owl suddenly swooped in through an open window, bearing a stack of letters. Another owl followed with a rolled up scroll that Harry recognized as the _Daily Prophet_.

Both owls came to rest on the perch that was set up in the corner. James stood up from the table and walked over. He took the newspaper and produced a few sickles from his pocket, placing them in the small drawstring bag attached to the owl’s leg. “You can rest here for a while if you need to,” James said to the animal. 

Harry didn’t pay that particular owl much attention, though. He was much more curious about the other owl. His father usually had most of the mail delivered to his study, so it was unusual for anything other than the _Prophet_ to appear in the breakfast room.

James took the letters from the brown owl, thanking it absently as it promptly flew off. “Well, well,” he said after a moment before turning and smiling at them. “Looks like we’re going to be busy for the next few days or so.” He came back to the table and handed out the three letters, one for Isabelle, one for Hayward, and one for Harry. Harry looked at the front. 

_Mr. Harry J. Potter  
The Blue Bedroom  
Henfield House  
Godric’s Hollow, Wales_

Harry sucked in his breath. _Is this…?_ He turned it over and saw the wax crest. _It is!_ It was his Hogwarts letter, and if Isabelle’s squealing and Hayward’s cheering was anything to go by, they had received theirs as well.

“We’re going to Hogwarts, we’re going to Hogwarts!” Hayward sang, leaping from his chair and jumping up and down in excitement.

Lily stood up from the table. “That’s wonderful,” she said, hugging each of them in turn. “You’ll love it there.”

Isabelle quickly broke the seal and read the letter. After a moment, she wrinkled her nose. “All it says is that we’ve been accepted and that they want a response by the thirty-first. You’d think they’d provide some information about the school.”

“They usually assume that the parents will explain everything to the students,” Lily told them. “It’s only with Muggleborns that the letters are brought personally by a professor.”

Harry nodded. He supposed that made sense. “When are we going to Diagon Alley?” he asked.

James laughed. “Eager?” he replied, but then said, “We’ll go on your birthday. Make a big day of it.”

“Can we ask if Neville can go with us?” Hayward asked, referring to one of the few children that had ever played with the three of them while growing up. Neville got along with all three of them, but he and Hayward were the closest. 

Lily glanced at James, who nodded. “We’ll floo Longbottom Lodge and ask Uncle Frank if he and Neville would like to join us. They can even come back with us for dinner and have some of the birthday cake.”

Harry smirked while opening up his own letter. “Misty’ll be thrilled to have more people to cook for.” He looked at the parchment sheets. The first was just like Isabelle had described, but he second one was a long list of required items ranging from school robes to textbooks to the notice forbidding first year students from bringing their own brooms. 

“No flying for us then,” he muttered gloomily. 

Lily didn’t appear to hear him as she clapped her hands together. “Well, we still have a lot to do today, and we haven’t even taken the dishes to the kitchen yet. Misty’s probably wondering what we’re doing in here!”

Harry watched as Hayward tucked his letter into his back pocket while Isabelle, who had no pockets in her skirt, finally sat hers on her chair. Harry chose to follow his sister’s example, putting his letter on his own chair before grabbing his plate and empty glass of milk to take into the kitchen.

As they moved, Harry asked James, who followed just behind him, “When do we get to tell Sirius and Remus?”

“I’ll floo them later,” James promised. Though Harry couldn’t see him, he could still almost hear the grin on his father’s face. “I’m sure the moment I mention your letters, they’ll be over here in the flash.”

* * *

**Part Two: The Perils of Diagon Alley**

On July 31st, Isabelle Margaret Potter woke up to her stomach fluttering nervously. It didn’t take her more than a second to realize why: it was not only her birthday, but today was the day of the promised trip to Diagon Alley. She grinned into her pillow before hopping out of bed. 

Most people might find it strange that shew as so excited about a shopping trip, but for her and her brothers, it was a real treat. Due to the security concerns and the people’s incessant need to mob Hayward wherever he went, they did not often appear in public areas. Usually they just went to the homes of their few friends or, more often, their friends came to them. Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, Padma and Parvati Patil were the ones they saw the most often.

* * *

**Part ____: Hogwarts and Its Thinking Cap**

“Potter, Harry!”

Harry glanced wistfully one final time in Susan’s direction before stepping up to the stool. Planting himself on it, Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. 

_Hmm, well, the eldest son of Lily Evans and James Potter. The one Albus hardly ever mentions except to say that you are the most level-headed boy he had ever seen._

Harry rolled his eyes. He had little liking for Dumbledore, as the old man did little but harass his parents about how they raised Hayward whenever he spoke to him. Dumbledore shouldn’t be making judgments on his character, as he had never even spoken to Harry.

_Well, Albus has always been a bit self-righteous, hasn’t he? Now, let’s see… where to put you. You’re certainly intelligent enough. Rowena’s eagles would welcome you. Brave and cunning too, so Gryffinor and Slytherini are possible as well. But there’s something else… ah, I dare say you’d enjoy yourself in Hufflepuff too. Helga loved her plants, just like you, and she was at her best when she had some difficult task to perform. What do you think?_

Harry didn’t answer at first, considering. Then he replied, _Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw only expect one thing – bravery, ambition, or love of learning. I can do all of that in Hufflepuff, and I already have a friend there._

The hat chuckled. _Good answer, young Potter. And given what’s likely ahead of you, what better place to learn at your own pace without interference than…_ “HUFFLEPUFF!”

Grinning, Harry jumped off the stool and handed the hat to the surprised Professor McGonagall. Shrugging in response to the shocked look Hayward shot him, Harry hurried to the Hufflepuff table and sat down next to Susan, the cheers of his new housemates ringing in his ears. She beamed at him, delighted.

Neither of them said anything, but turned to watch the continuing Sorting.

“Potter, Hayward!”

Harry wasn’t surprised when the hat barely touched his brother’s head before shouting, “GRYFFINDOR!” Nor was he surprised when the Gryffindor table exploded into wild yells and thundering applause. He shook his head when the Weasley twins jumped up and danced a jig, shouting, “WE GOT POTTER! WE GOT POTTER!”

The Gryffindors were still so busy fawning over Hayward that Harry barely heard the next name.

“Potter, Isabelle!”

Harry leaned forward, suddenly anxious again as he watched the hat fall over his sister’s eyes. Itsy was scary smart, she’d likely end up in Ravenclaw, but it would be nice – 

The hat didn’t shout immediately, seemingly considering its options. Harry did notice however that Itsy’s lips were firmly pressed together, just like they always did whenever she was particularly determined about something. He laughed quietly, imagining his sister arguing with the Sorting Hat.

Finally, the hat straightened up and shouted with somewhat less enthusiasm, “HUFFLEPUFF!” Harry’s jaw dropped. Him and Itsy in the same house? How much luckier could he get?


	5. Petunia, Lily, and Severus, AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Premise:** _Petunia is born a witch along with Lily, and thus becomes every bit as embroiled in the magical world as her sister._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an idea for this to become a whole series, spanning from Petunia's childhood all the way to the end of Second Voldemort War. I didn't get too far with it (sound familiar?), but I did write this scene.

Lily smiled at her, placing the last box down in her room. “I really appreciate you letting me stay here, Tuney,” she said, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I promise you, it shouldn’t be any more than a few weeks. James is insisting that the house at Godric’s Hollow be fixed up before we move in.”

Petunia leaned against the doorframe. “It’s not a problem, Lils,” she replied. “I don’t mind a whit. Gideon, Fabian, and Dorcas are usually the only ones who come around here, so it’ll be nice to have some company.”

“Right,” Lily said, eyeing her knowingly as she opened her trunk to start pulling out her clothes. “Of course, I’ll try to make myself scarce when Gideon comes by and you two would like some privacy.” She winked at her.

Petunia, however, just raised an eyebrow. She would have shot off a sarcastic reply about Lily planning to snog James in every room in the flat, but was cut off when a black, sinister-looking owl flew through the open window. It landed in front of Lily and promptly held out its leg. When she took the letter, the owl took flight again and left as quickly as it had come. 

Petunia watched as Lily opened the letter and read it. She grew alarmed when her sister’s face lost some of its rosy look. “Lily?” she asked. “What is it?”

Lily looked up at her, something unidentifiable in her eyes. Wordlessly, she held out the letter to her, which Petunia took. She looked down at it, spotting the familiar handwriting immediately. 

_Lily,_

_Please, I have to see you. It’s urgent. I know we haven’t been close these past few years, but for the love of Merlin, please meet me behind the Hog’s Head at 3:30 p.m. If you don’t show up, I don’t know what I’ll do. Please, Lily, please._

_S. Snape_

Petunia pursed her lips. Lily didn’t talk much about her and Severus’ parting at the end of their ffith year. Petunia had heard about Severus’ outburst against Lily after they took their OWLs, calling her a Mudblood when Lily had stood up for him against James and Sirius’ stupid bullying, but Lily only got upset when the subject was broached. Petunia had learned to leave well enough alone, and it wasn’t as though she and Severus had been close. Now, there was this letter. 

She returned her gaze to her sister. “What are you going to do?”

Lily sighed, suddenly looking weary. “I… I think I’m going to meet him.”

“Are you sure about that?” Petunia asked. “I know that the Slytherins are joining the Death Eaters in droves −“

“I know,” Lily interrupted, “but if I can save at least one from that fate by meeting with him, then that’s something, isn’t it? And…” she trailed off, a pained expression crossing her features. “It’s Severus, Tuney. I have to try.”

Petunia rather thought her sister was sounding a little too much like Dumbledore, but let it slide. Sighing, she nodded. “Okay, but if you’re not back by three-forty-five or I don’t hear from you, I will come looking, Lily, and I won’t be alone.”

“Order members?”

Petunia snorted. “No. James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter.” She knew enough to know that the four young men had no love for Severus and would deal with him by whatever means necessary. She didn’t like this situation at all, so she had no problem laying down strict terms. 

“All right,” Lily agreed after a moment. “I’ll send you a Patronus.”

“Good,” she replied, and then glanced at her watch. “It’s three-twenty. “You’d better get going if you’re going to do this.”

The bad feeling she had only intensified after Lily left the flat. Maybe she should just go ahead and call James and be done with it. There was something wrong with this entire situation. Severus had made his choice, and hadn’t even attempted to approach Lily in the past two years. So why try now? 

Abruptly, Petunia shook her head. It was ridiculous. Severus would never harm Lily. He’d worshipped her since they were children, back in those easy days before Lily received her Hogwarts letter. To do something truly _bad_ to her would be like asking him to stop breathing. 

And yet… still something nagged at her.

She straightened her shoulders. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t going to go tattle on Lily to her fiancé. She’d do what any overprotective older sister would do – she’d go watch from afar, making sure nothing happened, and then deny until her dying day that she’d ever been there if asked.

* * *

Petunia was very careful to keep to the shadows of Hogsmeade. Luckily, it wasn’t overly sunny that day, so it was much easier for her dark cloak to blend in as she made her way toward the Hog’s Head. 

Slipping into the alley that led to the back of the pub, Petunia could hear raised voices. One was the familiar sweet tones belonging to Lily, while the other was deeper, more agitated.

“− doesn’t have to be like this, Lily! I’ve told you I’m sorry I don’t know how many times! It was a slip of the tongue, an unpardonable one at that –“

“Yes, it was, Severus,” Lily cut him off, her voice colder than Petunia had ever heard it. “But while I accept your apology, it doesn’t change anything. James asked me to marry him and I accepted.”

For several moments, there was silence. Then, he spoke. “What?” he whispered. “Y-You’re marrying him?”

“Yes.”

“ _Why_?”

Lily sighed. “Because I love him, Severus.”

Severus’ snort of derision made Petunia grit her teeth. “Please, Lily, you hated him not two years ago! How can you possibly _love_ him now?” He spat the word ‘love’ out as though it was something vile.

“Because he grew up!” Lily snapped back, her temper clearly beginning to fray. “Something I see that you have yet to do. Now, I have to go. Petunia is expecting me at home and –“

“No, wait! Please, Lily, listen to me! We can still do what we planned! You and I can –“

“Severus, stop.” Petunia couldn’t see it, but she could easily imagine her holding up her hand to ward off his pleas. “That dream passed us by a long time ago, when you started hiding your forearms even in the hottest weather.”

Silence again, and then Lily continued. “Goodbye, Severus. I hope your choices –“

“ _Imperio_.”

Petunia’s breath caught in her chest.

“You will come with me, Lily,” Severus commanded. He then muttered in a quieter tone, “I hope you’ll forgive this of me someday, Lily, but it’s for the best. You and me together, just like we always dreamed. I won’t let you waste your life on _Potter_ , of all people.”

 _Like hell_ , Petunia thought, utterly furious. She whipped her wand out and stepped further into the alley. Coming around the corner of the pub, she nearly collided with Lily’s prone body, but quickly regained her stance. She pointed her wand at Severus, who returned the gesture. 

“I don’t believe you, Severus Snape,” she growled. “Willing to use an _Unforgiveable_ on the woman you have claimed to love since you were a child! You sicken me.”

He stared at her, his eyes narrowing. “Walk away, _Tuney_ ,” he snarled. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” she growled back. Inwardly, she wondered how it had come to this. Severus Snape using an Unforgivable didn’t utterly shock her – Lily had told her enough over the years about the company he kept within his own house, and nearly all of them were Death Eaters now, or soon would be. It was the fact that he would use such a spell on Lily that floored her.

Severus glared at her and raised his wand. “ _Sect_ −“

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Petunia shouted, cutting him off. She wasn’t familiar with whatever spell he had begun to cast, but she knew all too well how vicious Severus could be. She wasn’t going to give him a free shot, not after what he’d done to her sister.

He dodged the disarming charm, his wand already moving to retaliate. “ _Bombarda_!”

 _Nimue, is he insane?_ Petunia thought, incredulous. She threw herself at Lily, knocking her to the ground and out of the line of fire. Within seconds, she came up, shouting, “ _Carpe Retractum_!” Several bins swept out from their spots against the wall of the pub and flew toward Severus.

No doubt the duel would have continued – and gotten more vicious – if the back door to the pub hadn’t flown open and a semi-familiar old man stepped out, his wand at the ready. Severus whirled toward him, another spell on his lips, but the other man had decades of experience on him. Petunia didn’t even hear what spell he used. A red light exploded from his wand and shot at Severus, hitting him in the arm. 

Severus staggered, but didn’t cry out. Blood flowed from the wound, and he glared in their direction. Without another word, he Apparated and was gone. 

Petunia’s heart did not stop pounding as she stared at the spot where Severus had been. She still couldn’t believe what had just happened, but there was no time to dwell. Lily needed her. She turned back to her sister, and was relieved to see her shaking off the Imperius at last. She also recognized the man who had come to their rescue – Aberforth Dumbledore. He was helping her to her feet. 

Lily was pale as a ghost, causing her green eyes to stand out even more than normal. Her lower lip even looked like it was trembling. “T-Tuney?”

Petunia quickly stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Lily in a hug. Lily sank into her embrace and began to cry. “H-How c-could he?” she sobbed into Petunia’s shoulder. 

She didn’t answer, just stroked her hair. The war was suddenly beginning to seem a whole lot closer now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I'm not the biggest Severus Snape fan. Granted, Harry's not the most reliable of narrators, but let's face it, he spends his time enjoying the fact that he terrifies children like Neville Longbottom and being an utter dick to Harry for having the audacity to look like James Potter. Venting a grudge on a dead man's son? Yeah, no. And somehow the fact that he 'loves' Lily is supposed to redeem him in everyone's eyes? Again, no. So do I see him freaking out over Lily's impending marriage and actually using an Unforgivable on her as not being out of the realm of possibility? Hell yes.


End file.
